


you need him (i could be him)

by wanderlustnostalgia



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, i can't believe no one has done this prompt for this ship already, takes place sometime mid-season 38
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustnostalgia/pseuds/wanderlustnostalgia
Summary: Imagine Person A of your OTP has been dating someone else and they’ve broken up. Person A goes to Person B for comfort, and B reassures them that it wasn’t meant to be; they weren’t right for A anyway. Person A then asks what sort of person would be right for them, and Person B starts listing qualities. Things get awkward when Person A realizes that Person B is basically describing themselves.
    In which Seth gets dumped and Stefon is an opportunist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The lack of Sethon fic has been slowly killing me so I decided I'd remedy that with this ficlet I wrote a while back :)
> 
> My personal headcanon is that Alexi breaks up with Seth to let him be with Stefon and Seth either doesn't want to believe it or believes it and doesn't want to admit it; however, I left the circumstances of their breakup in the fic open-ended.
> 
> Title taken from "Grand Theft Autumn" by Fall Out Boy (not a perfect fit, but a fit nonetheless).

Stefon frowns when Seth walks into the room, head bowed, looking very much like a kicked puppy.  “What’s wrong, Seth Meyers?”

Seth settles into his chair and buries his head in his hands.  “Alexi broke up with me.”

“That bitch," Stefon starts to say, until he remembers what Doperah Sinfrey told him about how you should never say things like these to people when they're hurt, no matter how true they might be.  Clearing his throat, he stares at his freshly painted nails and begins again.  “I _mean,_ I’m very sorry to hear that, Seth Meyers, I know you liked Alexi very much even though Stefon thinks Seth Meyers deserves better than a lawyer, even if that lawyer is very _pretty_ and very _nice._ ”  (Because for a bitch, she was an awfully nice bitch.  A bit condescending and vanilla, but nice nonetheless.)

Seth lifts his head, managing a small smile.  “Thanks, Stefon.”

“Mm-hmm.”  Stefon nods, bringing his hands to his face.  He can feel the blush rising in his cheeks, but he's not ready to let Seth know yet.  “She wasn't your type anyway," he says, bringing his hands back down.  “Too...lawyer-y.”

Seth furrows his brow, straightening in his chair.  He pulls a pencil from its holder and taps it against the desk, thinking.  “What are you saying?  You mean if she wasn’t a lawyer, we’d be perfect?”

“I didn’t say that.”  God, straight boys can be so _oblivious_ sometimes.  Stefon makes a mental note to call up Gay Liotta later and complain.

“Well...who do _you_ think would be perfect for me, Stefon?”

Stefon exhales, briefly bringing his hands to his mouth. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he fights to keep it down, running his tongue along the edge of his upper lip. “Oh, I don’t know…they'd have to have  _everything_.”  He starts listing off qualities on his fingers, Weekend Update-style.  “6'1, skinny, blue eyes—those really sparkly blue eyes that look good with a lot of makeup or a little makeup or no makeup—”

Seth nods.  “Sounds good.  Keep going.”

Stefon does, subconsciously gesturing with each phrase.  “—pretty lips, cheekbones that could, like, cut glass, a backwards mullet—that's that thing of when their hair is, like, short in the back but like, long in the front—and it’s brunette but it’s got, like, blond-ish highlights and it goes over one eye, maybe, like, the left eye—and their ass looks good in tight jeans, like, _really good_ —”

“Okay, wait, now you’re just describing yourself,” Seth says, holding up his hands.  He actually looks confused, poor thing.

Stefon looks shocked. “Well, of _course_ I’m describing myself, Seth Meyers.  Who else would I be describing?  Andy Samberg?  No, no, no, no, _no._ ”  He covers his mouth with his hands and tries to look neutral, but it's _hard_ when Seth is looking so adorably puzzled in front of him, his hair mussed in just the _right_ way and his jaw scruffy from a week without his razor.  Not that he's not glad for it, but how could that bitch of an ex-girlfriend break up with this beauty?  The mere thought of it is enough to make Stefon smile like an idiot, and he's almost disappointed that they don't have a studio audience with them to egg him on.

Seth shakes his head, a show of exhausted defeat that would never make it on Update, and that Stefon isn't sure he's ever seen from the faux news anchor.  “Stefon, you’ve got this all wrong,” Seth tries to explain, and Stefon rolls his eyes, because he's heard this same excuse from Seth a million times before and it never seems any truer than the first time around.  “I know you mean well, but I really just want someone nice and _female—_ ”

“ _Booooooooo,_ ” Stefon interjects.

“ _—_ to settle down and have kids with and maybe take long walks on the beach once in a while.  You know _—_ normal, less outrageous, typical suburban couple-y stuff.”

“Sure you do, Seth Meyers.”  Stefon takes a sip of the water on the table and smirks, because there's nothing that says he and Seth Meyers _couldn't_ do all that stuff (boring and disgustingly normal as it would be).  “Sure you do.”

Seth sighs, glancing at the clock before standing and taking his coat from the rack.  “Well, thanks anyway, buddy.  I'd love to stick around, but I have a meeting in ten minutes.  I'll walk you out to the lobby.”  He opens the door, and Stefon follows obediently, rewrapping his scarf around his neck as they head to the elevator.  The room is oddly warm now, but he knows from experience that as soon as he steps foot outside the Manhattan chill will hit him full force and send his teeth chattering if he's not careful.  He really doesn't want to leave, but the thought of seeing Seth at dress rehearsal later softens the blow a little, enough to make him view the rest of the day with a little less dread than before.

They don't speak until they arrive downstairs, as Seth walks Stefon to the big, spinning glass doors he recognizes from that one Christmas movie about the tall elf and the scary midget.  “I'll see you later, okay?” Seth says.

Stefon nods, but as Seth turns to leave, he replies, “So you admit it.”

Seth pauses, turning back to Stefon.  “Admit what?”

“You think my ass looks good in tight jeans.”

Seth's tomato-red, shell-shocked expression is the last thing Stefon sees before heading back to his apartment, a stupid, manic grin plastered on his face for the rest of the night.


End file.
